


Ash and Choices

by Unquiet_Words



Series: NaNo Drabbles [8]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/pseuds/Unquiet_Words
Summary: Madara really didn't wanna choose anyway
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: NaNo Drabbles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533623
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

“I thought you quit.”

Madara’s grunt came a beat too late to be natural, thumb flicking the end of his cigarette, careless and really just uncaring that the ashes were littering his table instead of in the ash tray right in front of him. Somewhere down the dark tunnel of his thoughts he thought he heard Izuna tsk at him over it but he didn’t have the mental capacity to process it, too lost in his own mind and what he’d seen the evening before to be present in the moment.

The Senju brothers had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember. Neighbors turned best friends turned business partners, the two being the most important people in his life sans perhaps Izuna and his other brothers. To find out that they had such a... a _clandestine _relationship...

His brother’s grumbling and the loud smack of the kitchen window being opened brought him back enough to snuff his cigarette out, the ghost of a scowl crossing his face at himself - he really had stopped, over a year ago now. No need to poison his body further than he had throughout his youth, most of which had been done alongside one of the very two people that had his thoughts screeching to an unmovable halt.

Hashirama had always had his vices - gambling, alcohol, complete and utter stupidity - but fucking his own little brother had certainly not been one Madara saw coming.

Not that anyone could really blame him for finding Tobirama attractive. Madara slumped onto the table with his chin propped up in his palm, staring off at the faded wallpaper that his own brother had yet to replace, thoughts wandering away from the massive Stop sign the Senju brothers had planted in it and towards just the brothers in general, separate.

Tobirama had been someone he’d always found attractive. Quick-witted, sassy, intelligent, curious to a fault. Their banter had kept the both of them amused throughout the years and his company had always been welcome despite the small age gap, Madara adoring the glint in the man’s eyes and the way he flicked his hair out of his face and even all of the oddities he’d discovered about him over the years. The sludge he passed off as coffee in the morning, how he could bake a cake from scratch and yet could burn rice in a rice cooker, how he always sought out heat sources of a morning and latched onto them as if his life depended on them - sometimes that heat source even being him. And yet...

And yet, no matter how many times Madara had thought he couldn’t take the man anymore as just his friend - no matter how many times he’d bought flowers and tossed them at his mother or little sister instead, he couldn’t bring himself to when Tobirama wasn’t the only one who made his chest feel so disgustingly light and fuzzy.

Without really thinking on it Madara took out another square, lighting it and not even bothering to smoke any before just letting it sit between his fingers.

That had always been his greatest confusion. Both Senju brothers, both of his dearest friends, both finding their way right into his heart and making themselves cozy without his permission. Never being able to think of one before the other, never able to _choose_ \- but it seemed as if his options had rather ran out.

Unless...

He squinted at the wallpaper across the kitchen from him, flicking his cigarette over and over as a thoughtful twitch. It hadn’t been even a whole week since the last time Hashirama had gotten drunk off his ass and wound up at his doorstep (something that happened so often that he really didn’t question it anymore), and that night he’d went on and on about the supposed hangups of monogamy, all within the light of how polygamy fit him better. At the time he’d certainly found it odd (or, at least, he’d thought what bits of sense the man could actually make odd, though there was little sense to be found in a man so far on his drink) but had also known full well what hinting tone the man had been taking. Decades of experience told Madara he’d been asked a question without one ever being actually brought to light, and until that very moment, sitting in Izuna’s kitchen with a bit of ash falling and burning his fingers, Madara hadn’t had the slightest idea of how _wonderful_ that question might be.

It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was hope, and Madara had skated by on much less before. Shaking his burnt hand and crushing out his square he was quickly on his feet, grabbing his jacket and patting around with the internal mantra of ‘phone, keys, wallet’ before he headed straight out the door and to his car.

They were idiots, the both of them. But they were lovable idiots and quite possibly _his_ idiots, and Madara would be damned if he let any sort of possibility go unchecked - and wouldn’t find even the slightest complaint in the lot of the situation either. He’d never really been good at choosing anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Showing up unannounced on the Senju’s doorstep probably wasn’t the most tactful thing to do. Only after he knocked did that occur to him though, Madara shifting awkwardly as he waited for someone to answer, kicking the porch with his boots and wishing he’d given this more thought.

There was no guarantee he’d been reading Hashirama right. His drunken wailing had certainly seemed pointed, and the glances up from where he’d planted his face in his folded arms had been purposeful, as if he’d been judging Madara’s reaction to everything he was saying. And it was always difficult to tell how truly drunk the man was, considering how often he fell into the poison water full bodied.

He assumed it had been Hashirama’s way of waving a giant flag in his face, and now that he knew the full extent of the situation it definitely _seemed_ like an invitation. But if he was wrong...

The front door brought him out of his thoughts rather quickly when it opened. It was Tobirama who answered, a rather unbothered look on his face despite how red he’d been the last time they saw each other (Madara supposed anyone, even someone as serious as Tobirama, would be flustered when caught balls deep in his brother), only offering Madara a raised eyebrow as he waited for presumably Madara’s business there.

“I, uhh...” He shrugged his shoulders to readjust his jacket, scratching at his head in his nerves. “Came to talk?”

Tobirama leaned against the door, a severe look keeping his face as unreadable as usual, the autumn wind tossing his hair all about his face. But he didn’t take long at least to come to whatever conclusion he was looking for, gesturing with a nod of his head before heading into the house. “Shoes off, no smoking indoors.”

With a look down Madara confirmed he didn’t have a square lit, and sent a glare towards the Senju’s back. Guess it would be rather easy to smell it on him. He still grumbled as he struggled out of his boots, following the younger Senju on into the house and making sure the door was shut up tight behind them.

It hadn’t been more than a few weeks since the last time he’d been over, but Hashirama had already redecorated the entire house since the changing season. Little pumpkins, twig and twine wreathes, wooden bowls of cinnamon scented pinecones and wood placed here and there. Even the floor had scattered leaves all over, as if Hashirama had been reenacting a flower girl at a wedding and had pranced about the place tossing them into the air.

At least the leaves were fake. And Madara had to begrudgingly admit that even though it all made the place look _busy_ it also fit together nicely.

“Coffee or tea?”

He grunted and squinted at Tobirama’s back as they made it to the kitchen, taking off his jacket to drape it over the back of a chair. “Tea. Don’t feel like being poisoned today.”

With a click of his tongue Tobirama went about putting the kettle on, the click of the stove settling Madara’s nerves more than most anything else. Something about it feeling so...normal, just as it usually felt here, made the awkwardness leak away.

“No milk by the way.”

“Then why bother offering tea?” Madara shook his head incredulously, chair scraping across the kitchen floor as he dropped himself into it. “What kind of heathen drinks tea black?”

“The kind that doesn’t ruin it with sugar, either.”

Madara snorted at that, drumming his fingers on the table as Tobirama went about the cabinets doing whatever he was doing.

Which, as it turned out, was just him keeping his hands busy. Said hands eventually met the counter though, Tobirama coming to a halt, heaving a sigh that drew Madara’s attention straight to him.

“...we meant to discuss it with you.”

“‘It’ being...?”

“Us. Anija and I - our relationship.” 

That was honestly unexpected. Madara found himself without words at that, unsure what meaning to draw from it. The younger Senju brother had always been an important person in his life but he’d also always been one Madara found difficult to read, and in this he was no exception.

But he didn’t have to extrapolate the meaning, thankfully. Tobirama turned to him and leaned back against the counter, tapping one finger against the side of the counter-top. “We didn’t mean for you to discover us in that fashion.” Red colored his cheeks again but Tobirama cleared his throat and pushed passed the rare bout of embarrassment, managing to even meet the other’s eyes as he continued. “But we _had_ meant to speak with you about us. Perhaps it’s a bit uncouth to be so forward but the both of us have always rather enjoyed your company...”

“Lucky me.” It was sass he didn’t really mean, and he suspected Tobirama knew it.

“Anija is not home at the moment.” The kettle started to hiss but Tobirama ignored it, gaze flickering away for a moment before he was meeting Madara’s once more. “When he’s home, if you’ll stay that long, we’d both very much like the opportunity to discuss...more?”

More sounded right up his alley. He gave a nod and that was all it took to help Tobirama relax, a light smile touching the man’s lips as he turned towards the screaming kettle.

The man was difficult to read, yes, but he’d learned over the years to at least understand his odd phrasing. Madara tapped out a square but quickly put it right back in the carton, twisting around to shove it in his jacket pocket where it belonged. No need to encourage his own bad habits when something quite lovely was awaiting him on the horizon. That and he really wasn’t looking forward to pissing Tobirama off before they even got to have their discussion.


End file.
